Slow and Steady
by Katseng
Summary: They leave her behind even in death. Multiple character deaths implied.


**Author:** katseng

**Title:** Slow and Steady

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** Lots of blood and character deaths

**Pairing:** None

**Summary:** Sakura misses her boys.

**Disclaimer:** Why do I need one? I wouldn't be posting on this site if it obviously weren't mine and weren't at least slightly AU. This disclaimer business is baffling.

**Author's Notes:** I could not think of a better title. Suggestions would be wonderful.

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Slow and Steady

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She takes the time to wipe off the blood that splatters on her cold, white mask before entering the Hokage's office, no matter what ungodly hour in the night or, more frequently, morning it is, because the Hokage waits up every night when a team is scheduled to come back. She takes the time to wipe of the mostly-dried flakes off her cold, white mask, and, soon enough, it has become a ritual. She takes the time to wipe off her cold, white mask and since her uniform is all too often covered in sticky, still-moist blood (both her own and not-her-own) without a relatively clean corner to spare with which to wipe down her mask, she has reached an arrangement with the Hokage's assistant and keeps a clean spare cloth on the corner of the assistant's desk. The cloth miraculously gets cleaned after every mission. This was not a part of the original arrangement, but she does not comment.

Both the Hokage and her assistant know about the corner that she has appropriated and carefully never place anything else there; soon enough, after being brutally reprimanded by their supervisors, none of the other office staff does either.

This time, she is just a bit slower in reaching the office and bypassing the ANBU standing guard and takes just a bit longer to wipe down her cold, white mask. As she gives her report to the Hokage, her eyes glaze over just a bit and after she is done, as she heads to the door, she limps just a bit (nearly unnoticeable, really, but the Hokage's eyes have seen too much to not notice, even when she isn't looking). The Hokage pauses in filling out the post-mission paperwork (there is _always _paperwork, she thinks and sighs) and lifts her head just a bit to stare hard at the back of the limping nin with the cold, white mask. "These missions are killing you, you know."

The limping nin with the cold, white mask pauses infinitesimally but does not look back. "I know."

The next day, she is back for her next assignment. She does not limp this time. Nor does she limp as she comes back from the next mission or the next or for any of the ones after that. She does not limp and her mask is cold and hard and white.

One day, she does not come back at all. The vice-captain of her team stoically hands the Hokage the cold, white mask, cracked and liberally splattered with hues of wet burgundy and glutinous gray matter and discretely looks away as she gets up from behind her desk. She looks so incredibly old – no matter how young her jutsu makes her look, her age shows in the careful way that she places her hands and feet when getting up, the way that she uses the desk to stabilize herself, the tired, tired eyes of one who has seen and sent too many others to their deaths. The Hokage takes the cold, white mask (still liberally splattered with still-wet blood and suspiciously viscous substances) outside of her office and starts wiping off flakes of maroon and gray and burgundy. Instinctively, the Hokage knows that most of the flakes are of _her _blood this time.

The report released for the cause of death is vague but with sufficient enough detail to assure her family that she died with honour, defending her team and her country from evils that civilians are not classified enough to know of. The nin delivering the report does not tell her parents that the official report is also classified to everyone except people with the highest security clearance – people like the Hokage.

Her parents do not notice and accept the loss of their one offspring startlingly well, as if it was long expected. Their eyes are surprisingly dry and their shoulders slowly begin to release as they drop the heavy weights that had for so long subconsciously burdened them. Each silently reassures the other with the comfort of their sheer presence and familiarity born of decades of marriage. Their daughter has been lost to them for years now. _She's with her boys now._

The Hokage gives her speech at the funeral, held two days later. It sounds hollow even to her own ears but she finishes and stays till the end. She lays down a daffodil next to the bouquet of gardenias and gladiolas that Ino-san left at her one-time apprentice's casket, a beautiful affair of dark mahogany, cleanly elegant and utterly empty as her body was disposed of on the field.

As the empty coffin is lowered into the ground, her loved ones sigh in relief.

She is with her boys now.

END

Daffodils Daffodil is the symbol of new beginnings, rebirth, and bravery. It is usually the first bloomer in spring. Gardenia - Their white flowers convey a sense of purity, their sweet smell a particular loveliness not found in every flower. Gladiolus - Strength of Character. It is said that the Gladiolus was the flower of the Roman gladiators. The gladiolus is named for the shape of its leaves, its "gladius," or sword. 


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